


Yours, Mine and Ours

by ThePraxianWeasleyGeek



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Post-DOTL, Pre-Relationship, except that this is entirely not my fault, okay beyond that I don't even know what to tag this as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 01:36:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11749389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePraxianWeasleyGeek/pseuds/ThePraxianWeasleyGeek
Summary: APPARENTLY I SHIP DEATHSAURUS AND KROK NOW.





	Yours, Mine and Ours

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Masquerade](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6095425) by [Decepticonsensual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decepticonsensual/pseuds/Decepticonsensual). 



> I have a new and rather strange crackship! :D May well add to this with some other chapters-slash-oneshots, but for now I mostly used this fic to establish a 'baseline' for the ship as I see it, ie what's going on in their heads when they meet each other, etc.

“You,” Deathsaurus said slowly, disbelievingly. “ _You_ fought off the DJD.”

He was, he felt, justified in his skepticism: all evidence pointed to this straggly knot of newcomers in the hangar being so incompetent that they couldn't even pilot a ship properly. Their craft had very nearly collided with the Warworld - when questioned, the crew blamed this failure on something called ‘Shoot Shoot, Bang Bang’.

Nobody had yet been able to ascertain what ‘Shoot Shoot, Bang Bang’ actually _was_ , because every time someone asked about it, the pilot started yelling at them about trademarks.

“We-ell, more like scared ‘em off,” the magenta ‘copter (apparently, their medic) replied, scratching his helm. Deathsaurus’ eyebrows rose to a height he hadn't previously thought possible. “But Crankcase found one of those Mighty Mega Puncher thingies, and we sicced Grimlock on ‘em, so… yeah. Guess we did do some fighting.”

“Wha - _Grimlock?_ ” His commanding, authoritative aura was in shreds by this point, but Deathsaurus didn't particularly care. This strange band defied all convention anyway.

He paused, flicked his wings to resettle them where they'd flared, and tried again.

“Look… you at least have a captain, right? It's not just you three?”

The final member of the group - a largely unassuming bronze mech, with a chin that assumed enough for the rest of his frame put together - nodded. The chin, if nothing else, seemed vaguely familiar… but before Deathsaurus could place it, he was thrown yet another curveball. 

“He and Misfire are just trying to wrangle Grimlock into recharging, until we know whether he’ll be safe amongst your crew.”

“ _You captured Grimlock and took him with you?_ ”

“Um.” The bronze mech took a step back. “Yes? We _were_ going to use him as a bargaining chip. And we didn't exactly capture him. He's… not really himself anymore, I don't know if he can even tell Autobot from Decepticon most of the time.”

“So, hang on, you fought the DJD. You unleashed _Grimlock_ on them. And then you scared them off. How?”

“Yeah, that was me,” said the bronze mech. “I had this whole thing planned - heroic sacrifice, taking all of them with me, that kind of thing. But someone” - his gaze flicked to the ‘copter - “disarmed my payload without telling me. Still scared them, even if it didn't quite work. And then I think they decided we were more trouble than we were worth.”

After all the turmoil leading up to the DJD’s death, Deathsaurus had thought he'd never agree with Tarn on a single thing again - but apparently, today was full of surprises.

Then something struck him about the bronze mech’s statement.

“Hold on - what was that about a payload?”

“My payload? It's gone, don't worry. I won't detonate, even if I do decide to jump off something again.”

“Hold on a minute.” Deathsaurus sized the bronze mech up. “You had a payload. Inside you.”

“Yes.”

“You're K-Class? And you're still _alive?_ ”

“Apparently.”

Okay, this was officially too much. Deathsaurus took several steps backwards and rubbed at his temples, trying to at least file away all this nonsensical information, even if he couldn't actually parse it.

“Alright,” he said as he turned back to the trio of mechs, some of his ‘commander’ mentality restored. “Alright. I'm having a hard time believing any of this”-

“Bah!” said the pilot. Deathsaurus blinked.

“... So until I can figure out what's _really_ going on, I'm going to have to impound your ship and take you all into custody. And I'm not taking any chances with a supposed K-Class on my ship, even a supposedly inactive K-Class, so my medics will be putting _you_ ”-

“Oh. No. You. _Don't_.”

The sheer _fury_ in the new voice made Deathsaurus freeze - and freeze was the word, for it wasn't a burning, fiery sort of fury; it was brittle, and icy. It promised a long, slow shutdown in sub-zero conditions, and no hope of thaw.

Presumably, this was the captain.

He turned around cautiously, expecting someone... perhaps not brawny, but tall and physically imposing nonetheless, likely bristling with primed weaponry in response to the threat that had been made to his crewmate.

Needless to say, when his gaze landed on a diminutive genericon, it took a moment to connect such an unremarkable little thing with the Voice.

(... Not _that_ Voice. He was done with that Voice, and it was gone now, anyway).

“... I'm sorry, what?”

“You're not separating _my_ crew,” the genericon replied, still glaring. “ _Sir_. And you're not letting your medics poke at Fulcrum. He's completely harmless - he was put on the List for _cowardice_ , for spark’s sake!”

The captain’s armour was puffed out slightly, apparently in an effort to make him look… well, not big, but less tiny. Though he certainly had attitude enough for a mech three times his size. And brass bearings to match, if he was this fearless about standing up to a former Decepticon General, and current commander of a Warworld.

“ _And_ ,” the genericon added, “all the things Spinister and Fulcrum told you are bloody well true, which I know because I also suffered through _every single one of them_ , and I probably wouldn't be shouting like this, except that we have been stuck in deep space for months, with very little to distract us from impending starvation, and this morning Misfire _stole_ my last can of engex! Again! So I'm sorry, but you really didn't pick the best time to threaten to lock up my crew!”

His crew were looking slightly startled at this outburst, but also somewhat resigned - as though they knew they'd had no small role to play in it.

Deathsaurus wondered at this little genericon; who had taken it upon himself to rescue his subordinates from a feared rogue commander, despite the fact that said subordinates had apparently already driven him to distraction and might well have deserved being left to their fate. Mostly, he wondered because the situation he saw before him was quite honestly all too familiar.

Refreshingly so, really. An image flashed up in his CPU of empty eye sockets that still contrived to look shocked; of energon spraying in a sickening arc over Tarn’s head; of a mess of crushed metal and spilt energon against bright teal plating.

 _This_ was far more Deathsaurus’ speed. This, he could respect.

Unfortunately, though, he couldn't simply give in to the whims of some random captain who'd happened to crash land on his station.

“Well I'm sorry, but for the good of _my_ crew, I do have to stick you all in the brig. You can keep the K-Class with you - I'll allow that.”

“And Grimlock?”

Deathsaurus hesitated. And in that moment of hesitation, the genericon’s stare intensified. His expression wasn't menacing so much as… stern, and expectant, and speaking of trouble to come if its demands weren't met. It seemed to be a well-practiced Look.

Having known this mech’s crew for less than an hour, Deathsaurus didn't doubt that the Look was well-practiced for a reason. Nor that said crew would be no end of trouble - or perhaps, more accurately, nuisance - for him and his own mecha, if he didn’t surrender custody of Grimlock. Better, surely, to let this captain have his way for now, at least? A tactical retreat, of sorts.

… There was also a hint of a flame in the captain’s optics that Deathsaurus didn't want to dwell too much on being drawn to.

_Who knew protectiveness could be such a turn-on?_

 


End file.
